“We’ve grown very close. She praised Jack one afternoon for bringing me into her life. She said she looked behind all the sorrow of losing Jack, and there I was.”
“She’s family,” Beebe concluded. A contemplative moment passed between them, then Beebe said, “Michigan is home, Callie. I’m going home. My mother died recently.”
The news rendered Callie initially speechless, as was often the case when one hears such an announcement. Beebe’s use of the word recently mixed confusion into her delayed response. “I’m sorry to hear that. How’s your father handling it?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Beebe’s matter-of-fact reply stopped Callie on the rising grade.
Now a step ahead, Beebe looked down at her. “Not all my memories of home are pleasant ones, but I’m determined to pave over those. I’m forty-six, and for a couple of years now, I’ve struggled with who I am. I honestly don’t think I was cut out to be a minister. I got that wrong. I think God has taken me through all this, right into the trials of this week, with this decision about home ahead of me, so that I would realize my true calling. It’s like someone waking up one day and realizing he’s, well— Gay is the example that comes to mind.”
“Like Lucius?”
“Well, no. More like Jack.”
“What?” Callie said, confused.
“My point is, I haven’t been truthful with myself.”
Callie was still mired by Beebe’s analogy. Recognizing that, Beebe came back, linked arms, and walked her through the explanation. “Lucius has always been truthful with himself. Jack and me, not so much. All sides of this week helped me decide to go home. I’ve battled with the decision for months. You three women and Lucius have lit the matter up nicely, but Jack—whom I wish I’d met—Jack has been a star in the heavens, bright and luminous, and there to guide me home.”
Beebe’s words describing Jack caused Callie’s throat to tighten and Beebe to misunderstand Callie’s lack of response. “Don’t you see? Jack lived his life on the edge of happiness. I can just imagine his exhilaration when he was finally out of the closet,” she said, carrying her original analogy through, “out of Arnett’s house, open with his sons about you, and so happy. Finally, happy. It just fills my heart to think what you meant to him, what finally being together meant. I’m looking forward to feeling that in my life when I get home. God has really dragged me through it. He owes me this, and I’m going to collect.”
Awed by the other woman’s candor, Callie said nothing.
Laughing, Beebe jiggled their hooked arms. “Be happy for me.”
“I am,” Callie jerked out the words.
“I smell a but coming,” Beebe said, prodding Callie to express her feelings.
Before Callie could repeat back how normal it was to grieve the loss of a face-to-face friendship, she heard the sound of a car approaching at high speed. Dropping the newspaper to use both hands, Callie heaved Beebe to the side of the road. The O’Malleys’ green tank roared around the bend and passed them, fluttering the newsprint. Eleanor sat behind the wheel. Timothy rode shotgun. A face showed in the back window.
“Arnett,” Callie and Beebe exclaimed together.
“If she were holding up a sign,” Beebe said, “I could almost believe they’d kidnapped her.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this. She’s going into town after Lizbeth. Come on.” Callie scooped up the paper and grabbed Beebe’s elbow to drag her up the hill toward Heatherwood and the Santa Fe. After a few steps, Callie abandoned Plan A for a more expedient Plan B. She ran ahead for the SUV. She would drive back for Beebe.
. . .
Lucius Dameron crawled out from under the low-hanging crabapple and got to his feet when Lizbeth Sebring steered her SUV into the depot’s lot and parked next to his truck. He tugged off a pair of rawhide work gloves and tossed them into the wheelbarrow where only splintered remnants of Black Forest mulch remained.
Coming around the truck’s open tailgate, she said, “Hey, you’ve got this place looking nice.”
“Fresh mulch always dresses things up, doesn’t it?” He crossed the small yard to Lizbeth and kissed her cheek. In addition to the tree, he mulched around the new sign, the area under and around the bench, and each platform support post. A half hour ago, from the platform side of the depot, he watched unnoticed as Lizbeth drove past. He assumed the library was her intended destination.
On that assumption, he said, “Well, where are they?”
“Where are who?” she said, looking around, confused.
“Not who. What. New pictures of Chad.”
Her face brightened. “You’re too sweet. Of course, I’ve got new pictures.” She dug her phone out of her shoulder bag’s front pouch. “This is Chad with Maria and Gracie.” She handed the device to Lucius. Four-year old Chad squatted between two girls, obviously sisters, both dishwater blondes with bangs. The older girl, maybe six, sat cross-legged on a patch of grass. The younger—around three, Lucius guessed—sat with her knees pulled up to her chin, her little hands clasped at her ankles.
“Cousins?” he inquired.
Lizbeth squinted up at the sky, thinking. “No, not really. I’ve always thought of them as Chad’s cousins, but these are Debbie’s sister’s girls.” With those three words, her index finger ticked off the retreating relationship. “Debbie’s my sister-in-law, so Chad would not be related.”
“Then they can be kissing cousins.” To enhance this observation, he gave Lizbeth another peck.
She smiled up at him, then down at the phone. “They’re a cute trio, aren’t they?”
Lucius studied the round, innocent faces. The playground scene depicted was all denim and grass stain between ruffles and lace. “I agree. A handsome lot.”
Hearing car doors slam at the curb, Lucius turned to see Arnett Sebring charging toward them. “Uh-oh. Something’s up.”
Arnett arrived in the O’Malleys’ bulky battleship on wheels. Timothy’s attempt to waylay his wife proved futile. Eleanor dodged his outstretched hand and trooped in close quarters behind Arnett. Timothy, feet dragging and head shaking, brought up the rear.
Lucius stood shoulder to shoulder with Lizbeth.
Arnett barreled up to her. She wore an ugly look. “Where’s Chad, Lizbeth?”
Lucius, although confused over Arnett’s demand, thought the O’Malleys and their landline had something to do with it.
“You and that brother of yours snuck around behind my back and whisked my grandson to Florida. Is that why you insisted on this nonsensical trip, to get me out of the way? I can take you to court over this, you know. Grandparents have rights!”
“How typical.” Lizbeth retooled Arnett’s intimidation as flippancy. “It’s just like you to invent something like this.” Then her eyes grew wide with understanding. “You sent Gary to spy, didn’t you? Well, Patrick has not run away with Chad.”
“You bitch. You’re lying.”
Lucius stood on the wrong side of Lizbeth’s windup, and so was helpless to intercede when Lizbeth slapped Arnett hard across the face. Crying out, Arnett staggered back. Her hand reflexively covered her cheek. Lucius stepped between the two women. Timothy lunged for his wife. Eleanor tried to wriggle free of her small-but-mighty husband.
Sylvia Boyle’s voice, sharp as a train whistle cutting through a sleepy dawn, blasted into the game of freeze tag. She rattled off the violation committed, reciting section title and numerical cross-reference. Lucius looked around. A police car cruised away from the spot at the curb from whence Sylvia preached. The officer lit the car’s light bar. It flashed red and blue through the intersection and into the depot’s lot.
Sylv
ia was on them before Baron’s slow-moving policeman exited the black-and-white. “I witnessed the assault,” she said. “It’s a clear case of the young attacking the elderly.”
“Shameful,” Eleanor tacked on, now free of her husband’s grasp.
Sylvia addressed Officer Oren Mann. He lumbered over the lot’s curbed boundary and onto the grassy crime scene. “This one,” Sylvia said, jabbing an angry finger at Lizbeth, “slapped this poor woman.”
All heads turned to Arnett, who played the moment perfectly. Her hand couldn’t have been pried from her face with lubricant and a putty knife. Lucius thought her eyes, though, bespoke her enjoyment.
“Come with me, ma’am.” Officer Mann grabbed Lizbeth by the arm and walked her back the short distance to the cruiser.
Storm
“Stand right here.” Six-foot-six Officer Oren Mann looked down at a shrinking Lizbeth. “Did you strike that woman?”
Lucius’s worried heart tapped recklessly in his chest. He eased toward the pair to intercede on Lizbeth’s behalf. “Officer Mann,” he said. Mann peeled his gaze off the suspect, and Lucius began again. “Oren, let me explain something about this.”
“What, Lucius? What’ve you got?”
“First, you’ve got to understand these women are under distress. Lizbeth here is Arnett’s daughter-in-law.” He used finger and thumb to make the introductions fore and aft. “Lizbeth’s husband, Arnett’s son, died recently. They’re still in mourning. Emotions are high. They’re trying to come to terms with it. His death was an accident. No warning. It’s been difficult. Please, please, don’t arrest Lizbeth.” He spun to Arnett. “Tell him you won’t press charges.”
In Arnett’s hesitation, Sylvia answered. “Makes no difference. I witnessed the altercation. It was assault. Officer Mann has his duty.”
Everyone talked at once, but Lucius’s attention skipped to the cavalry’s arrival in the form of Beebe Walker. She got out of Callie’s Santa Fe, trapped behind a red light. On foot, she cut across Carmody toward Armament on the diagonal. Beebe marched toward the outdoor drama with cheeks, boobs, and belly bouncing. She was a beautiful sight to behold.
At the corner, Lucius fell into step beside her, concern dark in her eyes.
“What happened, Lucius? What’s going on?”
“Lizbeth bitch-slapped Arnett.” He thought the tiny smile that flickered across her face was the result of his excited choice of words rather than the act they described.
“What for?”
“Chad’s gone. Arnett says he’s not in Cassel. She accused Lizbeth of arranging with her brother to get him to Florida while you were all here this week.”
“No, I can’t believe that.” With her conclusion, she shifted into high speed, moving into the fracas like a juggernaut on parade.
Callie got through the light. Lucius saw her rushing forward from the parking lot. He crossed behind the O’Malleys and Arnett to meet her.
She asked the obvious question. Due to close proximity with the others, he wisely selected a neutral response. “Things got a little out of hand.”
Sadly, his wisdom was not matched by Eleanor O’Malley. She dropped out of line and stamped within range of Callie who stood between Arnett and Lucius. “How dare you steal this poor woman’s husband? You and Jack,” she spat. “I knew something wasn’t right about you two.”
Callie’s face seared with instant anger. She turned on her accuser. “I didn’t steal him.” Then glaring at Arnett, she said, “She gave him to me. Did she tell you that?”
Slap!
Arnett struck Callie hard. Lucius, again caught flatfooted, threw a protective arm in front of Callie. She was shaken. Arnett delighted. Eleanor retreated out of arm’s reach. A siren blast bit through the caterwauling.
Everyone turned to Officer Mann. The hand that switched off the siren, now rested on his holstered sidearm. The menacing move had its effect. He strutted away from the car, full of bearing and authority. He looked at Beebe and Lizbeth huddled near the bumper. “Stay there.” Then he pointed to Arnett. “On the bench.” She went. “Tim, take Ellie back to your car and wait there. I’ll call you if I need you. Sylvia, don’t move. Lucius,” he said. The restoration carpenter stiffened. “Bring that woman here.”
Lucius’s hand found the small of Callie’s back. They stepped over the curb and up to the cop. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
Callie nodded, her cheek streaked red.
“Lucius, tell me what you know.” In a commanding voice, Mann spoke to the group. “No one speaks but Lucius, or I swear, I’ll haul the lot of you to jail.” His cold eyes swept across everyone in turn. “Hit it, Lucius.”
Lucius, surprised to be singled out, but loving it, summarized the story in as few words as possible. “Arnett thinks her grandson, Lizbeth’s son, is being transported from Maryland to Florida by Lizbeth’s brother, and that Lizbeth suggested this trip to Baron to hide that fact from Arnett.” Tempting officer brutality, Lucius turned to Arnett. “I saw pictures just before you got here. Chad was sitting in front of a sign with Maria and Gracie. The sign said Marietta Playground. Does that make sense? Do these girls live in Marietta? Aren’t they children related to Chad’s Aunt Debbie?”
Before Arnett could answer, Mann waved Lizbeth over. “Let’s see the picture.”
Lizbeth complied. Mann took her cell phone over to Arnett, as if she occupied the witness stand, and held the phone down to eyelevel. “Do you know these girls? Is this a recent picture, not something taken a year ago?”
Arnett had the grace to look chagrined. “Yes, that’s recent. I know the girls.”
Mann’s giant paw lifted Arnett off the bench by her elbow. He led her within a few steps of Lizbeth. “For my satisfaction, can you get your son on the phone, so his grandmother can speak with him?”
“Certainly.” Lizbeth took the phone and speed-dialed.
“Put it on speaker,” he ordered.
A man’s congenial voice answered. “Hi, sis. What’s up?”
“Pat, can you bring Chad to the phone?” Lizbeth said. “Arnett’s here. She wants to talk with him.”
When his response was, “You’re asking a lot,” Lucius thought Officer Mann would go through the phone with a chokehold for the unsuspecting brother, but patience won out. “The girls have a puppy,” Patrick explained. “They’re playing outside.” His movements and his call to Chad carried through the phone. “Your grandmother’s on the phone.”
Lucius’s gaze leaped to Arnett when Chad’s voice radiated from the speaker. “Grandma, Grandma, Grandma,” he said, high-pitched, enthusiastic, and coming closer. Arnett melted. “Hi, Grandma.” He held the phone himself now.
“Hi, sweetie. Are you having fun?”
“Oh, yes. Maria has a puppy. She’s the oldest, so it’s her puppy, not Gracie’s. She named him Buster. But she lets me and Gracie play with Buster.”
“She’s sharing. That’s nice.”
“Yeah, that is nice.”
Softly, Mann said, “Ask him how long he’s going to stay there?”
“Chad, how long you’re going to stay at Maria and Gracie’s house?”
“Well, today, we’re going on a picnic. Tomorrow, we’re going to spend the day on a farm seeing the animals. I don’t know about the next day. When are you and Mommy coming home?”
“In a few days. Go back and play, Chad. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Patrick came on. “You still there, Arnett?”
“Thanks, Pat. Take good care of him.”
“You can count on it.” The connection was severed.
Mann ai
med his disgust at Arnett, Callie, and Lizbeth. “Well, what the hell are we going to do about this mess? The kids appear to be playing nicely together, but the adults here, not so much. You,” he said, pointing to Callie, “Are you going to press charges against this one?”
Callie glanced at Arnett. “No, I won’t press charges.”
The officer’s head swiveled down to Arnett. “Are you going to press charges against your daughter-in-law?”
Naturally, Arnett had the nerve to consider her answer. “No, absolutely not,” she said eventually.
“Okay,” Mann said, pulling his shoulders back. “Now, ladies, have we gotten this bad spell out of our systems? Can I release you on your own recognizance?”
Sylvia Boyle stepped forward. Eyes wide, she argued, “Their own recognizance? Are you sure that’s the wise thing, Officer Mann?”
“Objection noted, Sylvia,” he said without a flinch of aggravation, “but I’ve got this covered. Well, ladies?”
Contrite nods bobbed around the half circle in front of him.
“All right then. Next time, the phone call will be made from the booking desk. Got that?” Mann watched another round of nods, then called over everyone’s head to the O’Malleys. “Tim, it’s all over here.”
A drizzle began to fall from low-hanging clouds, so Timothy motioned his wife to the car.
“Sylvia,” the officer said, “I’d give you a lift, but you know the rules about civilians in cruisers.”
Gentleman Tim interceded. “We’ll drop you, Sylvia.”
Reluctantly, Baron’s self-appointed hall monitor headed off. “Can Ellie keep it under twenty-five for five blocks? No reckless driving?”
“No speeding. No reckless driving,” Timothy called back.
Lucius was pleased when Arnett politely declined Timothy’s invitation to return her to Heatherwood.
Beebe rejoined them. Lucius went from one woman to the next, hugging and kissing each, and repeating a prayer of rejoicing. “My lovelies are not jailbirds. Thank God.”
Wild Raspberries Page 24